


Autumn Retreat

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Kidfic, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 17:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: Trees = leaves = raking, an equation Jack has never quite cared for, until today, when he'd rather be raking than wrestling with his pint-sized archaeologist's bills.





	Autumn Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Autumn Retreat

It’s cool, but the house is open this beautiful fall morning and the sound of laughter tumbles in my window as if the leapfrogging autumn breeze has toppled over itself and spilled the sunny sound across the office floor.

Carter and Teal’c are here this morning; they volunteered to rake leaves. No, I didn’t twist any arms, nor did bribery enter into the picture, though I may have casually mentioned Daniel wants to have a bonfire with the raked leaves. 

Seems several neighbors had the same idea. The air is redolent with the tang of burning leaves, a uniquely seasonal scent that triggers sensory memories bound like molecules to that aroma. 

Between the happy sounds and aromatic smells drifting in my window, it’s difficult to concentrate on paying bills, but Daniel’s are already past due. You’d think by now I’d have gotten on some kind of schedule with his stuff, or at the very least, learned to pay them when I pay my own, but it hasn’t worked out that way. 

I should have hired an accountant to take care of this as soon as I realized how time consuming it was going to be. Daniel makes a lot of money and spent very little of it even before he was downsized. He has multiple, diverse investments and an offbeat sense of benevolence we’ve discovered has been supporting several small start-up organizations. Things like a flourishing cottage industry in a village near the Nile where a former Oriental Institute classmate has organized a co-op among the women so their handmade Egyptian cotton products are marketed directly to the end user. And an orphanage in Ethiopia that supports itself by making and selling socks in the world market. Daniel paid for the equipment that set them up in the sock business and receives a small dividend check each month as a shareholder in the company. Sometimes it’s less than a dollar, but it arrives each month, proudly stamped and politely addressed in Amharic to Hakim Daniel Jackson. There are at least two dozen of these little organizations he supports in some way, all over the globe. 

Plus, according to the statements arriving on a quarterly basis, he has an E*Trade account with a substantial amount of money in it. Fortunately, since I can’t find a password to do anything with it, its minding itself pretty well, at least according to the bottom line on the balance sheet. And I suspect calling up his E*Trade broker and trying to explain that a freak accident happened while on a top secret mission for the US Government is either a) going to get me hung up on, or b) in trouble with the SEC. 

Suffice it to say, Daniel’s finances are complex, not to mention his venues have expanded exponentially since Carter, Teal’c and I got involved. Strangely enough, since he hates math, this was obviously something he enjoyed and was good at. I don’t and I’m not; which is why I should probably have hired an accountant. On the other hand, I don’t want to be the one to have to tell him his accountant is now sipping drinks with little umbrellas on some beach in Brazil where there is no extradition when he’s big again. And yes, there is enough money to make it worthwhile. 

An exultant peal of laughter is seconded by an equally joyous bark and I swivel in my desk chair in time to see my kid, in a bright red sweatshirt, and the dog, wearing a bright red bandana, jumping into the pile of leaves Teal’c and Carter have just raked up.

Brown leaves, red leaves, yellow leaves and even a few purple ones shoot into the air as though propelled from a cannon. They float back down lazily, some born by the breeze back to their starting places, so the rake wielders must begin again to capture the fallen foliage if we’re to have a bonfire this afternoon. They don’t seem to mind, both leaning on their rakes, laughing along with the boon companions bent on desecrating their hard work. 

“Throw me in, Teal’c! Throw me in!” I hear Daniel shout exuberantly, jumping to his feet in the middle of the pile as though bursting out of an autumn-colored cocoon. Hershey explodes out of the pile as well, his entire body wagging in time with his tail. 

Carter hurriedly gathers up the leaves again, scooping them into a pile nearly as high as her waist, while Teal’c scoops up Daniel and swings him around in that game of theirs I usually choose not to watch, flinging him, with precision, into the very middle of the pile of leaves where there’s no chance of him hitting the ground.  
Daniel shrieks, Hershey throws back his head and howls and seconds later, the kid and the dog are prancing around Teal’c begging him to “Do it again, please! Do it again!” 

Yeah, it’s apparent the dog wants to be thrown into the leaves too. Which Teal’c obliging does, picking up Hershey around the middle and dropping him next to Daniel in the softest part of the part of the pile where the pair of them thrash around as if they’re swimming before climbing out to do all over again.

Turning back to the computer, I wonder how long it will take to exhaust them and if there will be anything but crushed leaves left by the time they’re done. With a sigh, and a dose of discipline, I turn back to the computer and manage to tune out the squealing and screeching, or at least ignore it for awhile.

Usually I hate raking leaves and pay some kid in the neighborhood to do it for me. Funny how those despised household and yard chores have acquired a new patina with this incarnation of Daniel around to gild them with his pleasure in the lowliest forms of entertainment. 

Planting bulbs this fall was an entirely new experience. Did you know that every bulb has its own unique shape? Yeah, they all look like tulip bulbs, but there were big ones and little ones, wide ones, thin ones, and one that Daniel, holding it by its top knot, said looked like a wizened old man with his cheeks puffed out. 

He’s fascinated by the frilly little trumpets on the daffodils and wanted several bags of each kind Home Depot had for sale. We spent two weekends creating new flower beds, then planting the four hundred bulbs Carter, who indulges his every whim, let him buy. There’s gonna be a sea of daffodils and tulips in our yard next spring. 

I wonder which Daniel will be looking at them. And if big Daniel likes daffodils as much as this Daniel. I figure they’re good for resale value either way. Just have to make sure if the house ever goes up for sale, it’s in the Spring.

A different kind of shriek jars me from the home software accounting package I had to buy to manage his stuff. I’m outta of the chair and flying down the hall before it registers that it wasn’t a bad shriek, just a startled one. 

Despite the recognition, I’m out the back door in a flash, streaking down the steps into the yard, only to stop dead in my tracks as Teal’c makes a flying tackle, shoves Hershey with one hand and snatches something out the jaws of the dog with the other, landing on his side with a grunt, cradling the object to his chest.

Daniel, still shrieking at the top of his lungs, lunges toward Teal’c. “Hershey! Stop that, don’t hurt it!”

Hershey obediently, though quiveringly, halts, his nose twitching madly as he leans as far as possible without moving, toward Teal’c who’s pushing himself up off the ground, one handed.

“Did you get it?” Daniel asks breathlessly, hopping up and down in front of Teal’c, who has his hands cupped in front of his chest now. 

“Indeed,” the big guy lowerer his hands so Daniel can peek between the widespread fingers.

There’s a gasp of immense pleasure, followed by, “Isn’t it cute! Sam! Come and see!” And as he glances over his shoulder to find Carter, Daniel’s gaze lights on me. “Look, Jack! Hershey caught it! Teal’c made him drop it before he hurt it.” Those big eyes turn up to Teal’c imploringly. “It’s not hurt is it?”

“I do not believe so, Danieljackson, though it is likely extremely frightened.”

“Can I hold it? I wanna hold it!” Daniel cups his hands and raises them to Teal’c.

Carter is peering over Daniel’s shoulder now, oohing and ahhhhing too. “It’s adorable. Be careful, Daniel, even though it’s tiny, those feet pack a powerful punch.”

As if it knows instinctively that it’s safe, a tiny brown wild bunny, with a wisp of a cottontail, nestles in the cup of Daniel’s hands. Bright little eyes survey its sudden magic carpet and a quivering nose bumps the small fingers inquisitively. I expect at any moment, the thing will sit up and announce, Disney style, _Hi, I’m Thumper, what’s your name?_

Daniel smoothes a finger over its ears and back and the wild thing settles with a sigh into this new sanctuary. Even when Daniel bends to let Hershey sniff it, the bunny doesn’t move. 

“Can we keep it, Jack? Please?”

“Daniel, it’s a wild bunny. It won’t be happy in captivity. Besides, we don’t have anywhere to keep it.”

“We could put it in a box in my room.” The big eyes are turned on me now, full of hope and pleading. “He’s just a baby, Jack. It will be winter soon. What if he doesn’t have a family to live with or even a place to live? We could be his family, Jack.”

“It’s not a baby, Sport, that’s a full grown rabbit. Cottontails don’t get very big. And I’m sure he does have a family, Daniel. They’d miss him terribly if you kidnapped him and took him away from them. Just think, Flopsy and Mopsey would be devastated if they lost their brother. And Mrs. Bunny would go into a decline if she lost her only son.”

Daniel frowns. “How do you know he has a mother and sisters?”

There are times when age and ingenuity still manage to outsmart this incarnation of Daniel Jackson. I appeal to Carter, who up to this point has remained silent.

“Carter, as our resident biology teacher, how many litter mates do bunnies usually have?”

“Biology?” Carter sorta squeaks. “The only thing I know …”

“About bunnies,” I interrupt. “Is that they usually have lots of brothers and sisters, don’t they, Carter?”

“Uh, yeah, bunnies are well known for their propagation.”

“What’s proper-gation?” Daniel inquires, stroking the tiny head with a forefinger. 

I swear the rabbit is going to sleep.

“Lots of offspring. Bairn’s? Wee ones? You know, children? Kids? Trust me, Cadbury here has lots and lots of brothers and sisters waiting for him at home. So you need to let him go so he can find his way home before dark.”

“But dark is a long time away.” Daniel casts a look up at the sky. “Isn’t it?”

“Aways; but we don’t how far Junior has to go to get home, so you better let him go now, and tell Hershey not to bother him again. Okay?”

“But what if he wants to stay with us, Jack?”

How’s that song go, _If I could talk to the animals …_

_“Danieljackson, are not wild creatures best left as wild creatures? Would you wish to be taken from us abruptly, with no word of warning, and made to live with strangers you’ve never encountered before?”_

_Those saucer-sized eyes fill slowly with tears that well over and slide in little rivers down his cheeks. “No,” Daniel sniffs, petting the bunny fiercely. “But…”_

_“Aht, Daniel, no buts. Take Cadbury to the back of the yard and let him go. You’re welcome to ask him to come back and visit any time he’d like, okay?”_

_“Come on,” Carter puts a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, steering him toward the back corner of the yard, where there’s lots of cover. “We still need to finish raking so we can get the bonfire started. I don’t think bunnies are very fond of fire.”_

_Bunny or bonfire? I can see it written in every line of the small body, but he lets Carter turn him and together they cross to the back corner and kneel down in among the dying coreopsis._

_Crisis averted, I beat a hasty retreat back into the house so I don’t have to be the bad guy here. It’s not long before the breeze is again tumbling the rich sounds of Daniel’s laughter in through my window, along with the smells of a burgeoning bonfire._

_As soon as I write the venture capital check for the Polynesian canoe enterprise, I’ll roust out the marshmallows and Hershey bars, along with the graham crackers and see about disbursing a little of our own venture capital for this afternoon’s autumn retreat.  
~*~_

__


End file.
